By Atoms Moved
by kassysyd2
Summary: "We should have guessed that they would have a contingency plan for his escape, but, the horrifying simplicity of it was astonishing. After 72 hours without checking in the Winter Soldier was programmed to snap, indiscriminate violence simply taking over entirely, until he was inevitably taken down." Hard choices need to be made. Epic amounts of Protective!Steve and Hurt!Bucky.


He let us catch him.

Fighting himself twice as hard as he was fighting us.

His muscles were beyond tense, curling to strike as he fought to pull himself back. He could barely speak, but I could see it in his eyes, the confusion, the struggle. I could see his desperation and powerlessness. I could see that he truly didn't understand. Couldn't.

But he was trying, so very hard.

/

Clint was the one to eventually brought him down.

We'd surrounded him, exhausted him with defensive blows meant to weaken rather than injure. And when finally he'd staggered, momentarily dazed, Clint had shot a tranc straight into the meat of his thigh.

He went down quickly. Heavily, grimacing and obviously scared.

I ran to him, trying unsuccessfully to break his fall but failed and heard a sickening thud as his body gave way under him.

As I finally knelt by him, I caught the last flicker of awareness and what looked like relief.

"Get him out of here." I told Tony, "Let's get him somewhere safe."

/

We kept him sedated for a few days then, medical care and preparations judged too traumatic for him to be awake. I felt like it was betraying him somehow, gripping and positioning his limp form as we moved him from bed to machine and back.

His body a catalogue of injuries.

"His bones have been broken again and again," Bruce told me, "and there are scars, even though you can't see them. Or rather, there were scars. They've long since faded but the evidence is still there. You don't want to see, believe me"

"And the arm?"

"Horrific. They carved away almost his entire shoulder. I'm not even sure of the entire mechanism. Tony will need to study it. It's beyond me."

"Ok," We'd deal with that later "any idea what to expect when he wakes up?"

"Honestly, I have no idea"

/

Pain, nothing but pain. I should have known.

/

The first time he woke with a shivering immediacy.

His limbs twisting against the restraints before his eyes had even opened, and a deep quiet moan escaped his lips.

He thrashed for a moment, still weak with the sedative, but the straps held.

"Bucky! Bucky, it's ok. You're safe, it's me, Steve."

But still he fought. No recollection, nothing, nothing but violence and desperation. He didn't speak, though I could tell me wanted to, he'd open his mouth but instead of words, his teeth would clench shut. Blinding confusion and disorientation rather than rage at least.

"Bruce!" I yelled

He came running, syringe in hand.

"I'm so sorry Bucky." I said as he was dragged back down. "I'm so sorry."

/

The second time we woke him, we did it gradually. Easing him awake in micro-reductions in the sedation and I was there the whole time. Whispering to him as his tired and confused eyes opened and shut again.

Talking to him throughout.

Memories of our childhood together.

"K...Know yoo" He'd slurred when his clouded eyes opened, mere slits.

"Yes!" Hope "Yes, you do"

I couldn't help reaching out, wanting to touch him, but the minute almost imperceptible flinch froze me in place.

And he was gone again.

/

The lights were too bright. Much brighter than the labs they had kept me in... Their labs were familiar, somehow and this felt wrong.

The drugs felt wrong too. I was warm, and lying on something soft. It should be cold. My limbs should be quickfire, searing agony striping a line back to consciousness.

Something was wrong.

Then I felt the straps, all in the wrong configuration.

And a man, the man from the ship.

The one with the too familiar eyes.

He was standing over me, pushing back against my fighting limbs. I could feel them moving, the Winter Soldier doing just as he had been programmed to do.

I wondered if I'd kill him. I hoped not.

But someone else came running, and thankfully, blackness followed.

/

This time the rise to consciousness took longer and was more anguished as I had some small amount of autonomy, at first. The drugs kept some part of the programming back, I could fight it, for a little while.

The straps held firm.

And so did the gentle hands.

Spoken gently, words that were at once familiar and entirely wrong.

Somehow I knew that this voice should not be speaking. Should not be here...now.

I must be going mad, for the comfort it brought, warmth, sweetness. I had so rarely felt. It was more painful for it's impossibility.

"You know me" He'd said and a name.

Strange how it resounded in my chest, pushing hard against my heart.

I couldn't turn away from him, the straps didn't allow it. Not that I tried, I knew better than to turn away from pain.

I knew.

The darkness came and left, insistent and drowning.

But his voice didn't falter and the hallucination (it must be) somehow continued. A cold comfort, I was sure I'd invented for myself, made up from what was left of the pieces of my shattered soul.

I had to tell him.

/

"Bucky?" I asked, watching his eyelids flutter open again. "Bucky, nod if you can hear me."

Though he didn't move, his eyes held mine, focussed clearly on my face searching for something.

"Hurt... you" he slurred, the sadness was obvious.

"No. You didn't. No one. I promise"

"No! Will...hurt." and with that effort, his jaws clamped shut and a shaking started. The violence took over again, but, the look in his eyes was knowing, it wasn't the confusion or anger. It was regret and even worse, acceptance.

/

"He recognises me," I told Bruce, "He knows my voice, I can tell. But something is keeping him back."

Bruce nods, having observed the same.

"His behaviour is contradictory, that's for sure. Every time he's conscious his physical response is to fight, pure violence. But, it is also apparent both from his earlier comments and his continued attempts to disrupt himself that this is a conditioned response. But how to break it, I don't know" He said sadly.

"Will it fade?"

"Hard to know. We'll ease off the sedation and see how much of your friend comes through. It may be that the Winter Soldier is entirely in control."

"Ok, lets try that"

/

We should have guessed that they would have a contingency plan for his escape. But, the simplicity of it was astonishing.

After 72 hours without checking in the Winter Soldier was programmed to snap, indiscriminate violence simply taking over entirely, until he was inevitably taken down. The chaos he'd create, a happy side-effect of the process. Their asset, if he lived, would be reacquired and wiped again. If he died, the truth died with him.

An unfortunate loss, but, contained nonetheless

He was basically incapable of speech, a few simple words getting through the chaos. But I could see that what was going on behind his eyes spoke volumes more.

"Kill me." He'd told Tony as he circled him above. Ground out words, angry and barely intelligible. "Kill me! I'm out of time."

We tranqued him instead.

/

"As far as I can tell, there is only one way to clear the programming and you're not going to like it." Bruce and the doctors looked nervous speaking and that was telling enough.

"Tell me."

"The chair. Or more specifically neural recalibration"

"No."

"I know."

"No. I won't do that to him."

"I don't see that we have any other choice." Bruce said sadly, "Tony can reverse engineer a better, gentler machine."

"God Bruce, I can't do that to him"

"Steve, it won't wipe him again, though that would be easier on us all. We'll work only on the programming, keep everything else."

There was no answer I could give.


End file.
